


carnations

by thedevilsgarden



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hanahaki Disease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28079634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilsgarden/pseuds/thedevilsgarden
Summary: It starts with a cough, a single crumpled petal cupped in the palm of her hand.
Relationships: Elena/Queen Maeve (The Boys), Hughie Campbell/Starlight | Annie January
Comments: 3
Kudos: 56





	carnations

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another one! Enjoy :)

It starts with a cough, a single crumpled petal cupped in the palm of her hand. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what it means; a quick Google search for “coughing up flowers” and Maeve has her answer. 

She can have the plant surgically removed, and scrape out any love she has for Elena, or she can die a horrible death choking on flower petals. 

Death seems like the better option.

* * * * *

She’s drinking coffee in the conference room the next time she starts hacking up petals. Starlight and A-Train are the only other supes at the table; they’re lounging about, waiting for the latest PR brief from Ashley, which isn’t for another ten minutes. Maeve tries to hide the petals (carnations, she realizes, Elena’s favorite), but Starlight is already reaching for her wrist.

“What the hell?” she says. “Did you eat a flower or something?”

“Mind your own fucking business,” Maeve says. 

Unsurprisingly, Starlight doesn’t. She shows up at Maeve’s apartment the next morning with Twinkie trailing behind her; Maeve thinks she might have to change her address. Starlight is brimming with purpose and forces her way in. It’s all very dramatic.

“You have Hanahaki disease,” Starlight says, skipping right past the pleasantries. That, at least, Maeve can appreciate.

“It’s kind of obscure,” Twinkie says. “Mostly just a myth, but…it’s about unrequited love. You’ll keep coughing up flowers until you choke to death.”

“But there’s a cure,” Starlight cuts in. “You can have the plant surgically removed from your lungs.”

“Yeah,” Maeve says; she takes a seat on the couch. “I know.”

Starlight’s positivity seems to falter. “Then why…?”

“The side effect,” Twinkie says, with a knowing look. 

“Okay.” Maeve rises to her feet, feels a sudden head rush. “Time for you both to fuck off.”

* * * * *

Maeve gets good at hiding her illness, but not good enough. She coughs up petals in front of a reporter and Vought benches her almost immediately. Ashley says that the public can’t see a superhero get sick, that it’s bad for business – everyone assumes it’s the flu, that it will pass in no time, and Maeve doesn’t bother correcting them. 

But she’s still stuck lounging around her apartment for a week, downing bottle after bottle from her liquor cabinet; the type of alcohol doesn’t matter, so long as it dulls the senses and drives away the noise. She smokes and vapes and drinks, and all three make the coughing worse. 

Starlight keeps calling her cell phone and leaving increasingly concerned messages. Maeve isn’t even sure why she listens to them, since she always ends up rolling her eyes and deleting them, but she does. It’s another thing she’ll file away into the “undefined” category of her brain, along with saving Starlight from Black Noir and showing up to rescue a bunch of nobodies from her ex.

* * * * *

Another week comes and goes, and then Starlight is back at her doorstep. Maeve is too tired to tell her to leave; the coughing has been keeping her up at night. In the mornings, she has to shake all of the petals off of her sheets. 

Starlight comes in with her boytoy and starts pacing the length of Maeve’s living room, her shoes scuffing lightly against the floor. Twinkie stands awkwardly off to the side of the room, his long arms dangling uselessly at his sides. Each time Starlight turns on her heel and switches direction, Maeve’s stomach churns.

“I’ve been thinking it over, and it doesn’t make sense,” Starlight is saying. “You and Elena spent years apart. So why is this only happening now?”

Maeve coughs into her elbow; her throat burns, and she brushes three petals off of her forearm. Starlight shoots her a look of concern, which Maeve ignores.

“Maybe Elena still loved her back then.” Now Twinkie is involved; fantastic. “Maybe she loved her for all that time, and it’s only changed now.”

They both turn to Maeve, waiting for some kind of confirmation. Maeve thinks of a flipped table, of Elena’s sharp intake of break, and refuses to give them anything.

“Can you both get the fuck out of my apartment?” 

She’s coughing again before she even finishes the sentence, which sort of undercuts her authority. Especially when Starlight rushes to her side and starts gently rubbing her back, as though they’re friends instead of reluctant allies.

Once Maeve’s hacking has subsided, she looks down at the newest petals, and Starlight’s breath catches. These petals are flecked with blood and fraying at the edges.

Starlight looks over at Twinkie with renewed urgency. “What are we gonna do?”

“Simple,” Maeve says. “You’re gonna let me die.”

* * * * *

Twinkie and Starlight take her to some underground hideout. It’s filthy, and Maeve is pretty sure she just saw a rat scurry off into a dark corner. If there’s ever another bubonic plague, she thinks, New York will surely be the center of the outbreak. 

They set her up on a cot and Twinkie covers her with three or four blankets.

“I’m coughing up flowers,” Maeve says. “I don’t have pneumonia.”

“Right,” he says. “Sorry.” But he doesn’t remove the blankets.

Maeve’s throat starts to close up, and she coughs several times to dislodge the petals. In an hour or so, the blankets are covered in petals and Maeve is ready to claw out her own throat. The boys are talking amongst themselves, quietly so she won’t overhear them, and Twinkie keeps glancing over at her to make sure she hasn’t kicked the bucket. 

“Okay, no, this is crazy,” Starlight is saying, throwing up her hands. “She’s suffering for no reason. We can fix this-”

“Annie.” Twinkie is sporting the same somber expression as the rest of the men. “She doesn’t want the surgery. We have to respect that.”

“She’s delirious!” Starlight snaps. Her voice is high and taut, bordering on the edge of hysteria. “She’s gonna let herself die over a woman who doesn’t even love her back!”

“For the love of god, shut up,” Maeve rasps. She feels all of the eyes in the room settle on her.

Starlight is on the verge of tears. “You’re not even trying to fight.” 

Maeve swallows; her throat is caked with dried blood, and she knows she doesn’t have much time left. A day or two, at the most.

“Make sure she knows it wasn’t her fault.”

Starlight blinks at her. “I’m sorry?”

“Elena,” Maeve croaks. “Make sure she doesn’t blame herself.”

Starlight opens her mouth to protest, but Twinkie – well, Hughie – gives her hand a tug, and she closes it again.

“Okay,” MM says, when none of the others speak up. “We’ll make sure she doesn’t.”

“Is, uh…” Hughie scratches the back of his head. “Is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable?”

Maeve manages a tired smile. “Some morphine couldn’t hurt. For the pain.”

Frenchie nods. “Leave it to me.”

Starlight is shaking her head. “God, why are you so willing to die for this?

“Because the part of me that loves her,” Maeve says. “It’s...it's the only part of myself I still recognize.”

Starlight goes quiet after that, and it’s a relief.

* * * * *

It’s early, maybe eight in the morning. Maeve can’t tell because the hideout is underground and also because she’s been in and out of sleep for the better part of a day. She’s nearing the end, and the men around her know it. Hughie keeps bringing her water she can’t keep down and stops by her bed every ten minutes to make sure she’s still breathing. Eventually he just drags a metal chair across the floor and takes a permanent seat at her bedside. 

“So, what,” she says. “You’re you just gonna sit there ‘til I’m dead?” 

“Yeah.” Hughie tries to smile, but it’s weak. “I am.”

Maeve closes her eyes, but she can’t sleep. She only opens them again when a door rattles and startles her out of her musings; Hughie is no longer beside her. Starlight slinks into the room, half-guilty, and shares a look with Hughie that Maeve doesn’t understand. 

Not until Elena appears in her line of vision, lovely as ever, in her pretty blue sundress.

“Maeve?” Elena is at her side in an instant, brushing back her hair with gentle fingers. “Maggie, oh my God…”

Her eyes flick from Maeve’s face to her torso, searching for some sign of injury. She plucks a petal from Maeve’s lap; blood-crusted, the rest scattered all over the bed.

“You’re here,” Maeve breathes; her eyes are cloudy, unfocused. 

“I am,” Elena says softly. “I’m here. Are you in any pain?”

Maeve smiles tiredly. “Not anymore.”

“God, I told you I needed some time,” Elena says, forcing a laugh. “And then you pull this shit?”

“Yeah. I’m a manipulative bitch, I know.”

Elena’s smile slips.

“Annie came to my sister’s place,” she says. “Everybody here, all of your friends, they say you’re dying.”

“I am.”

Elena flinches. Maeve stifles a cough, tries to speak, then ends up coughing anyway. This time a small flower, almost perfectly intact, lands on the sheets in front of her. Elena reaches for it.

“Carnations,” she murmurs. Her jaw sets, the way it always does when she’s trying not to cry. 

“You like carnations,” Maeve rasps. “You told me.”

Elena laughs, but it’s a sad sound. “Yeah.” She stares down at the flower; its petals are still wet with blood. “This is my fault, isn’t it?”

“No.” Maeve shakes her head. “It’s my fault.”

She isn’t sure if Elena believes her, but Maeve is certain it’s true. 

“You can’t die,” Elena says firmly. “You can’t.”

Maeve is finding it difficult to breath. “I love you,” she whispers. “You know that, right?”

Elena nods; she is leaning over Maeve and when her tears drop, they fall onto Maeve’s cheeks. 

“I love you, too.” Elena presses a kiss to her forehead. “I wasn’t sure before, I was spiraling and I didn’t know if…but I love you, too, okay? So you can’t die. Please don’t die. Stay here with me, please.”

Starlight and Hughie exchange hopeful glances. Elena doesn’t realize what she’s done, but Maeve feels the effects right away. The dizziness goes away and the permanent bulge in Maeve’s throat, that awful feeling of choking, starts to dissipate.

“She said it,” Starlight says. “Guys, she said it!”

Maeve swallows thickly, finds it easier to push air through her lungs, feels some of her strength return to her. And when she leans up and kisses Elena for all she’s worth, the rest of the plant growing inside of her withers and dies. 

In her periphery, Maeve can see everyone celebrating and exchanging relieved smiles, but no one’s smile is brighter than Elena’s. Maeve feels the curve of that smile against her lips, a smile that contains all the wonders of the world, and thinks ‘I’m home’.


End file.
